The Actress in High Life eBook

“Ah! I would like the jaunt very much.
But I did not know that the commissary was going thither.”

“He is going, and you might accompany him,”
said L’Isle. “You could not indeed
make the journey in your coach if you had one, for
off this high road, from Lisbon to Madrid, there is
scarcely a carriage-road in the country. But
you are now quite at home, on the back of your sure-footed
mule.”

The truth was, L’Isle had himself suggested
to the commissary that the country south of Evora
was rich and productive, and that prices had not been
raised there by the vicinity of the troops, and the
demands of their market. At the same time he
gave Shortridge to understand that he wished to get
up a party to visit Evora, and Lady Mabel must be
included in it.

“I will ask the commissary to-night when he
is going,” said Mrs. Shortridge; “and
to take me with him, if he can.”

Lady Mabel had listened with silent interest so far;
but here she broke in upon their conference, just
as L’Isle desired.

“Why, Mrs. Shortridge,” she exclaimed,
with a well-feigned air of one deeply wronged, “do
you mean to desert me? After partaking of my
pleasant excursions and botanical instructions (but
I find you a very dull scholar), do you mean to go
traveling about, in search of adventures and rare
sights, without even asking me to be of the party?—­I,
who am afflicted with a mania for traveling which can
only be cured by being gratified? But such is
woman’s friendship.”

“My dear Lady Mabel, how do you know that my
lord would trust you so far under my care?

“So far!” said Lady Mabel, scornfully.
“Did I not come from Scotland hither, braving
the perils of the sea and of the wilderness, the stormy
Bay of Biscay, and the desert of Alemtejo, teeming
with robbers and wild beasts? With no guardian
but old Moodie, whose chief merit is that of being
a suspicious old Scot, with the fidelity and snappishness
of a terrier.”

“I am surprised now that I sent for you,”
said Lord Strathern, “considering the difficulties
in the way of your coming. But you are here,
and I thank God for it. But you would find it
a long, rough ride to Evora, and the weather grows
hotter every day.”

“Rough roads are nothing to us who travel on
horseback,” Lady Mabel said, with the air of
a cavalier; “and as for the distance, it is not
much over a morning’s ride. Colonel L’Isle,
could not you ride there in a morning?”

“With relays of good horses, and good luck to
my neck,” said L’Isle, with a laugh.
“It is about fifty miles; but one need not go
the whole way in one day.”

“Of course not,” she answered. “We
will not ride post, but take our ease, and see the
country at our leisure.”